


The Love Of Cruel Hands

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Kink, Bottom Sam, Cock Rings, Crying, Happy Ending, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Amelia/Sam, Needy Sam, Overly possessive behavior, Psychopath Dean, Rough Sex, Scared Sam, Season/Series 08, Sexual Violence, Stalking, Teasing, Top Dean, Voyeurism, completely crazy, dangerous love, like basically tied to a bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4590753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those dimpled smiles, that sweet laugh, the fond look in those bright hazel eyes... <br/>They weren't meant for him, but Dean could change that.<br/>He could carve and shape his Sammy, his dear Sammy, until he belonged to Dean. Forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scream

 

It has been nearly a year. Sam wasn’t sure—he stopped counting the days after the first two months. But now, somehow, he knew that it has been around a year since he last saw his brother.

Since Dean disappeared in Purgatory.

At first, he panicked. He felt himself shatter, fought the tears that forced their way out of his eyes, kneeling on the ground and just wanting to vanish as well, join Dean in that putrid place swarming with monsters. He blamed himself for so long, broke down and stopped speaking, felt like an empty shell of a man, a shadow of the hunter he once was.

But then he slowly, gradually realized that was fine. Not being a hunter anymore, not needing to look over his shoulders no matter where he went. He told himself that Castiel was with Dean, that the angel would surely keep him company and those two would protect each other, wouldn’t let the other die. And convincing himself, believing that that must have been the case, it all got so much easier. He still had nightmares, of course he did. He couldn’t erase the past, no matter how much he tried.

And then he stopped trying, because it was obviously useless. He made peace with himself, decided to start a new life, a life without blood and death, without the constant fear of being left alone, of losing his big brother to Heaven or Hell. It was a slow process, but he found himself feeling better with each day. He started driving around, taking good care of the Impala as he looked for a new life, a normal life.

And then he hit a dog.

—

 

Smiling.

Smiling so brightly, all dimples and happiness, his eyes warm instead of the cold emotionless gaze.

And then laughing. Throwing his head back and grinning, hugging and caressing and smiling. Always smiling.

But not for him.

Those smiles weren’t for him, not anymore. They were for another, for a stranger, but it wasn’t really a stranger, was it? Not for Sam. For him, the stranger was a woman he has been living with for a long time now, it seemed like he felt at home in that house. Months, then. Maybe even the whole time that his big brother had been rotting in that place, fighting for his life every second of each never-ending day.

But Dean was back.

He thought of surprising Sammy. The little brother he missed so much, the only thing that kept Dean going this past year being the thought of seeing Sammy again, of hugging him and seeing him smile.

And he saw him smile, only not at him. Not because of him.

And it was _killing_ him.

Dean felt betrayal, initially. He felt such hurt like never before, felt himself cry and shout and break his fingers as he punched a tree over and over again. He felt like ripping his hair out, like kicking in the door to that house and beating his brother to a bloody pulp. Sorrow overtaking him, he forgot to eat for several days, until he felt like he was going to faint, but then he got angry.

Anger fuelled him, got him back on his feet. Seething anger, dripping with venom and death, with so much damn nasty that it made Dean sick at first. But only at first. He felt rage like never before, and ever since then, he has been feeling it every single day, drinking it like a desperate man.

After three weeks, he found a motel close to _their_ house and began watching.

He watched everything, even buying a pair of binoculars. And he didn’t care how fucked-up that must have looked, because he snapped. He was a changed man now, Purgatory bringing out the animal in him and erasing the righteous man completely, not even a shred of him left anymore. Only the wolf was left, the beast that sought revenge and more, so much more.

He watched Sam with her. He watched as his brother kissed a woman, played with a dog. He watched as he sat on the couch and talked with her, as they snuggled up close while watching TV, unaware of the pair of eyes watching them in turn. And then Dean watched Sam at night, as he went to bed, only emerging from the bushes when the whole house was bathed in darkness. At night, Dean ventured closer to the house, stopping in front of _their_ bedroom window and watched. He watched as Sammy’s chest rose and fell, as he slept soundly with his arms wrapped around that whore.

Fucking whore.

Dean despised that woman, hated her more than Sam. He fantasized about slitting her throat, about doing inhumane things to her. And he would make Sammy watch, would make him watch as Dean took her apart, piece by piece, would maybe even make Sam do the work instead of him.

And then he was following them.

He started stalking their every move, Sammy being the only thing he saw each day of every week. He followed them to the store, to a restaurant or a bar, wherever they went. Dean always followed, hiding in the shadows like the predator he was, the wolf licking its lips in hunger. And he wanted to reveal himself so much, wanted to touch and rip and shout and bite and claw, but he didn’t. Because he needed to stay low, stay concealed for now. Because he had a plan.

The fantasies about murder soon turned into something else, but Dean didn’t mind. He relished in them, embraced them and, when he jerked off to _them_ fucking, he was laughing. He imagined Sammy, his Sammy begging him not to hurt her. Imagined him crying and pleading, getting on his knees for Dean and offering himself instead.

And Dean would break him. In his mind, Dean humiliated Sam, cut him up nice and pretty, made him cry and scream as he raped him over and over again, fucking him raw and bloody and covering him with his come. Dean was constantly hard after that, watching Sam through the window while palming his bulge, while his mind constructed the sickest scenarios as he undressed his little brother with his eyes.

Then Dean couldn’t take it anymore, because he needed more.

At night, he didn’t just stare at his sleeping brother through the window anymore. Spending all his days watching, always watching, he knew how to get into the house without triggering the alarm or leaving any traces behind. So that’s what he did. He crept inside and stood over Sammy’s sleeping form, staring at him like he was meat. Because that’s what he was, really. Fucking meat, delicious and juicy, just ready for the taking. And Dean would have loved nothing more than to screw his brother’s brains out right next to that skank, but instead he just took some pictures.

Oh, the pictures he made. Each time he looked at them, he felt the need to touch himself, to fuck into his fist because damn, he just couldn’t control himself. Sam’s sleeping face, calm and relaxed. Sam’s naked chest. Sam’s naked…everything.

Dean couldn’t help himself, he had to remove the blanket from his brother’s sleeping form, exposing his bare chest. He wanted to touch so bad, his fingers tingling as he kept on clenching and unclenching his hands, so fucking tempted with a raging boner in his pants. But instead he just took the pictures, so many pictures. He even unzipped himself and released his throbbing cock, giving it a few strokes before leaning closer to Sammy’s face, sweet little innocent and unsuspecting Sammy, and nudged the tip of his dick against his lips. So many times he wanted to just fuck his mouth, to pump his cock until he came all over Sam’s face and then watch his reaction the next morning. He wanted to make his bother swallow his come, wanted to drown the man in it, but again, he didn’t. It would have been too risky.

But he still took pictures of his cock next to Sam’s mouth, next to his slightly parted lips that looked and felt so soft. And after a few nights of sneaking in and snapping the pictures, he decided to do something a bit daring.

He slowly, so damn painstakingly slowly, removed his brother’s underwear. Grinning like an animal, he lightly stroked Sammy’s mouthwatering cock, fighting the urge to just take him in his mouth and swallow him. He stroked Sammy, God, wanted to do so much more, but then his brother was groaning and shifting in his sleep and Dean had to stop.

Pulling Sam’s underwear back on and leaving the house that night was the hardest thing he had to do his entire life.

But he kept coming back, though didn’t repeat his actions from last night. He needed to be, had to be careful. So he kept on stalking, creeping and watching, recording as his brother fucked that bitch, who kept on moaning like the little bitch she was. Dean growled as he stroked his leaking cock, roughly and it didn’t matter that it hurt because even the pain was so damn good. And at least like that, as he watched every little thing, it felt like Dean was part of that life. Part of his brother’s normal life, of his happiness, the sort he could never achieve while with him.

It made him furious.

And then months passed. Two or maybe three, maybe even more. He spent every day with his eyes glued to his brother, his days consisting only of Sammy, of his Sammy, of his fucking dear little brother. And each day he could feel himself growing more and more desperate, the primal and feral grins on his lips as if stuck on his face; he was unable to stop grinning. And gradually, his thoughts got darker. Not like they were filled with love and sunshine before, but it just got so much worse as time went by.

And finally, one night, it got to the point where Dean couldn’t take it anymore and turned into something worse than a monster, something hundred times more wicked than a demon.

—

 

Amelia made him forget like nothing else. She was better than demon blood, than anything he tried to drown himself in before. And that was because she made him genuinely happy, making him laugh in a way he hadn’t in years.

These past few months have been amazing, filled with joy and finally, Sam felt like he could lead a normal life. After all those years full of murder, he could be with the one he loved, could maybe even form a family of his own.

And today had been just like any other day—a happy one.

They went out for lunch, bringing Dog with them to the park, fooling around with ice-cream like stupid teenagers, then came back home and watched some TV on the couch. They kissed in the shower, laughed when she played with his hair, then went to bed.

And then he heard the noise…

He woke up with a start, immediately glancing at Amelia, but she was still asleep. Wondering if he just imagined things, he sat in the bed for a long moment before laying back and closing his eyes. But he didn’t have to wait long for the next sharp and sudden sound, making him jump out of the bed.

Someone was in the house.

He quickly looked at the clock on his bedside table. Two in the morning, and ever since he moved in with Amelia, there haven’t been any wild or confused animals accidentally finding their way inside. Which meant somebody really did break in, and after the initial panic, he found himself smiling.

Whoever was inside, they were going to regret choosing this house after finding out just who Sam was.

He closed his hands into fists, ready to land a punch at anything or anyone who dared rob them, and then walked out of the bedroom. His eyes constantly scanning the darkness, making sure that the shadows in the corners weren’t moving, he made his way around the house and to where he believed the noise came from.

Then there was another one, louder this time, and he ran to the kitchen.

Once in the room, he squinted into the darkness and, just in case, opened a drawer and picked up a knife.

“I’ve got a knife,” he warned, speaking lowly but loud enough for whoever was in here to hear him. “So you have two options. Face me and the knife, or get the hell out of this house. I’d suggest the latter being the smarter choice.”

He waited for an answer, but when none came, he began roaming the kitchen, checking everywhere. Under the table, next to the fridge, inside the pantry, but he found nothing, no one. Confused, a bit frustrated and feeling the first signs of fear creeping up on him, he tightened his grip on the handle of his makeshift weapon and glared into the darkness.

“You really don’t want to play hide and seek with me, buddy,” he said threateningly. “You won’t like it when I catch you.”

After a few more moments without any signs of someone else being here, Sam had to conclude that they must have heeded his advice and gotten away. Which was great, Sam not actually missing fighting things in the dark, but as he turned around to walk back to the bedroom, he couldn’t shake that feeling of uneasiness that kept clawing at him, desperate for attention. But there was clearly nobody here, there couldn’t be, he checked everywhere. Nobody could be so damn sneaky as to fool him. He was quite sure that only he and another person could ever do such a thing, and that person wasn’t even on Earth. And unless Sam has somehow managed to form another personality or clone himself, he was pretty sure that the danger was gone.

So he put the knife in the drawer and headed back to Amelia, walking down the seriously dark hallway and it was weird, because when he came out it wasn’t this dark. Glancing around, he noticed that the curtains were drawn, rendering the whole hallway pitch black, and he felt as blood drained from his face, because neither he nor Amelia touched the curtains.

He turned around just in time to see a figure move behind him, and then he was suddenly slammed face-first into a wall and grunting as a hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back.

He tried to push the man away—knowing he was male from the rough and firm hand that seized his wrists behind his back—but he found himself unable to move. He was completely pushed into the wall, the man using his knees and elbows to keep him in place, then suddenly the force was lifted from his wrists and he could move his hands again, but it was too late.

Sam tried turning around, tried elbowing the man, but he gave such a violent pull to his hair that his scalp burned, pain shooting down from his head and he cried out. He immediately regretted doing so as something was shoved into his mouth, gagging him, and then suddenly a cloth was pressed against his face, and shit, he knew what that was. He held his breath, refusing to inhale the chloroform he knew the cloth was full of, all the while struggling and thrashing around, but could soon feel the dizziness that came with lack of air.

But he couldn’t breathe it in, or else who knew what would happen to him? To Amelia? So he fought, he fought it so damn hard, but then another harsh tug at his hair made him gasp and inhale, and it was done, he could feel himself getting weaker at an alarming rate. He fell to his knees, collapsing as the man let go of him, and was soon on the floor, his eyelids heavy and then he only managed to let out a pathetic sound before sleep overtook him.

*

 

The first thing he realized as he came to was just how much his head hurt. He thought it was that damn chloroform, its stink still lingering in his nostrils and even in his mouth, making him swallow thickly and then pull a face.

Then his mind cleared and he began panicking like a chicken with its head cut off.

He opened his eyes but he was blindfolded. He screamed but he was gagged. He listened but he couldn’t hear anything important, just the sounds of passing cars and muffled conversations, voices coming and going. He was lying down, probably on a bed, and his hands were tied above his head. He tugged at the ropes, but they burned his wrists, their grip relentless. And when he tried his legs, they were the same; his ankles restrained and tied to the bed spread-eagle style.

Shit, what the hell was going on?

Somebody broke in their home and kidnapped him. Fucking great, he really missed this. And it could have been anyone, because thanks to the darkness, Sam couldn’t make out anything, plus he wasn’t the most loved man on Earth either, with hundreds of monsters just itching to kill him. That made him wonder why he wasn’t lying dead in a ditch yet, but he supposed he wouldn’t like the answer.

Damn it, he thought he left this kind of life behind. But he was too naïve, thinking he could stay safe for so long. Hunters remained hunters for the rest of their wretched lives, after all. However it seemed like this time he wasn’t the hunter, but the hunted.

He felt a sudden shudder as he realized that he only had a pair of underwear and a tank top on, the clothes he usually slept in. And even though he was on a bed, he highly doubted he could sleep now. He sighed, poking at the gag in his mouth with his tongue. It was a thick piece of cloth, and just to make sure, whoever gagged him also tied another thinner piece around his head, keeping the one in his mouth in place. So he couldn’t have spat that disgusting thing out even if he tried. Fantastic.

He lay there for what seemed like an hour, just waiting and listening, wondering if this was supposed to be a slow and drawn-out death, if the man wanted him to die from thirst and hunger. But then after a few more minutes of nothing, Sam heard the sounds of a door being unlocked and opened, then closed and locked again. He tensed, clenching his fists as he heard someone approaching the bed with him on it, then there came the sound of something being put down, maybe on a table next to him. And he was angry and scared, but he wasn’t sure what kind of emotion seized him and had him forgetting to breathe when he heard a voice.

“Finally, I have you all to myself, Sammy,” he heard the man say lowly, his voice way too familiar but alien, too deep and dark, with too much evil in it. “Been planning for this for a long time and now that you’re finally here… Well, let’s just say that me being overjoyed is an understatement.”

Sam’s brain short-circuited for a second. He must have dazed out for a while, the shock too great to absorb, because in the next moment the voice came from much closer, and it sent a chill full of terror down Sam’s spine.

“You left me, Sammy. Thought you’d never get to see me again, so why bother, right?” Dean chuckled, and Sam’s heart nearly stopped from the malicious sound. “You chose that whore over your own goddamn brother, Sam. Did you honestly think that your actions wouldn’t have any consequences? Were you really that stupid? You betrayed me, baby brother, and it hurt so bad. I wanted to claw my heart out just so that the pain would stop, but now… Now? Now I just want to show you how it feels like. All the hurt, the denial, the anger. I will make you understand, don’t you worry. And I’ll be real thorough.”

This couldn’t be happening. Sam was happy that Dean was back, his brother not trapped in that horrible place anymore, but that happiness only lasted a short moment. He was only scared now, confused and nervous, and fucking terrified. This wasn’t Dean, not really. Purgatory changed him, and it changed him bad. His brother’s voice was inhuman, too deep, too low, too damn feral. It made Sam worry about his life, which shouldn’t have been possible, should have been so wrong, but this Dean was simply scaring the crap out of him.

He struggled against the ropes, his questions muffled. He hoped Dean would at least remove the gag so that he could speak, but his brother took a hold of the blindfold instead, forcefully ripping it off Sam’s head and making him hiss.

Sam hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened his eyes, and if he was scared before, he felt like shouting and fleeing now.

He was in a motel room, just like he thought. It was dimly lit, all the blinds shut, the only light source coming from the several candles scattered around the room. And next to the bed stood Dean, his big brother, who seemed like a stranger now, looking like a wild animal ready to pounce and kill. His hair was a mess, still short but he let it grow a bit, just like his stubble. He had horrible dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept for days, his clothes hanging from his body and he lost some weight, visibly skinnier, but judging from the condition he seemed to be in and how he managed to manhandle Sam, he hadn’t lost one ounce of his muscles. His eyes were the worst, though. They were empty, save for the impossible amount of danger in them. He gazed into Sam’s own wide, surely terror-filled eyes and flashed him a horrible, wolfish grin, then let those suddenly dilated eyes roam Sam’s body, drawing a tiny gasp from the hunter when he licked his lips like a wolf.

“Hey, Sammy.” His grin widened, crooked and nasty, and Sam had to force down a whimper. “Missed me?”

Then he turned around and pulled out a blade from the bag on the table. At least it seemed like a blade, but it wasn’t your usual normal-looking one, at all. Sensing Sam’s discomfort, Dean raised that nightmarish thing in his hand and chuckled playfully.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it? Made it while I was stuck in Purgatory, then used it to chop some fuckers’ heads off, gut them, slash and hack at them,” he said, sounding proud as he turned the blade in his hand and staring at it as if mesmerized, before glancing back at Sam. “And now I’m gonna use this beauty on you. Ain’t I just the best?”

Sam swallowed, pleading Dean with his eyes to stop, to just let him go so they could talk about this, but his brother seemed to be enjoying his suffering way too much to take pity on him. He closed in on him, Sam doing everything in his power to lean away and move as far away as the ropes would let him, which unfortunately wasn’t nearly far enough. He watched with wide eyes as Dean crawled on the bed, hovering above him and leaning close as he moved his hand with the knife in it to his throat, then pressed the blade against his skin, making Sam tense.

Dean was completely unpredictable, has gone totally insane, and Sam was seriously scared for his life.

The frenzied man grinned down at him, like a predator about to devour its prey, then narrowed his eyes as he slowly slid the blade across a small part of his throat, creating a small cut. No matter how small, the stinging pain still made Sam make a sound of discomfort, which Dean seemed to be loving judging from the way his primal grin widened at the sound.

“Sammy, so damn beautiful for me,” he purred lowly, and Sam’s stomach lurched. “Wanna do so many things to you, take you apart and make you scream until you have no voice left. And I’m not talking about pain, not just that. You will soon figure it out.”

And then he watched in horror as Dean leaned in and began lapping at the bloody cut on his throat.

Sam writhed, tried to somehow get Dean to just fuck off, but his brother used one hand to grab his hips and still his body, and the other to grab a fistful of the younger hunter’s hair and give it a brutal yank, exposing Sam’s neck even further. And Sam felt like throwing up, felt like screaming which he did, but any sounds of protest and hate and disgust he made were immediately muffled by the gag. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he felt Dean’s soft, warm and wet tongue sliding across his skin, the tip poking playfully at the wound before latching onto it and sucking greedily, sneaking in a few harsh nips, all the while emitting these deep, lustful growls, and just the thought of Dean enjoying this so much made Sam want to cry.

Finally, fucking finally, he pulled away, then Sam let out a surprised yelp when Dean bit down on his chin, hard.

“Open your eyes, Sammy. Don’t make me peel your eyelids off,” he mouthed sternly against Sam’s abused skin, so he quickly opened his eyes and looked down at his brother, who flashed him a bloody smile. “That’s my good boy,” he said and gave a small lick to Sam’s bleeding chin. “And now we’re going to catch up on some lost time, okay? I’m gonna show you who you truly belong to. Because no matter where you hide, how much you run, you can never escape from the truth, which I will make you understand until nothing else makes sense.”

And with that, he pulled back and slipped the blade under Sam’s top, then began slicing it away. Sam watched it all with horrified eyes, refusing to believe what he knew would follow, not wanting to make peace with the idea of his own brother hurting and torturing him. He deserved a good beating, a week or maybe a month of silent treatment for not looking for Dean, that much he admitted. But this?

This was Hell level cruel.

He shuddered as cold air tickled his skin, his now bare chest as Dean moved the ruined top out of the way, revealing Sam’s heaving chest. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep calm and began panting, his heart hammering in his chest as Dean slid the blunt edge of the blade up his body, slowly and lightly, the cold surface making the hair on his arms stand on end and a shiver run down his spine.

When the blade reached his neck, Dean made eye contact with his brother and grinned, licking his teeth eagerly. “I hope you had fun with your bitch, because from now on all you’ll have is me. This body”—he gestured at Sam with the blade— “belongs to me. I own it, Sammy. I own you, own every inch of your body and soul, and this time, I’ll make sure to make this crystal clear for the whole damn world.”

And then Sam made a pained groan as his brother nicked the skin on his chest. Then again, and again, and again, and Sam found himself needing to stifle the sounds that threatened to escape his throat as Dean attacked his chest, cutting and slicing at every inch, then this time he couldn’t stop the gasp, his breath hitching as he felt his brother’s lips on the cuts, biting and nipping.

He cried out and screamed, thrashing hopelessly as Dean fucking bit down on his skin, so hard that Sam was sure that he managed to tear it, to bite it off. And he knew he shouldn’t, but he did anyway, he looked down and felt the blood turn to ice in his veins as he saw the state his body was in.

His whole upper body was bleeding. No wonder he was in so much pain, his skin was filled with cuts and gashes, blood pouring or oozing from the wounds and running down his sides, but Dean was there to lick it all up. The man turned beast lapped at the abused flesh, making some new wounds with his teeth as he nipped at his skin and tugged on it, sucking and licking and fucking kissing. And when he bit down Sam’s nipple, while pinching the other one harshly, Sam screamed so loudly that even with the gag in his mouth, he was sure that if there was anyone in the next room, they heard him.

Panting and now unable to stop the tears of frustration and exasperation, Sam closed his eyes, then thought better of it and forced himself to keep them open, really not wanting to find out if Dean was joking about the whole peeling away his eyelids thing.

So, with his eyes open, he saw his brother licking his blood covered skin, as he must have finally had enough of abusing that part of Sam’s body, but then he was biting him again, though this time on his neck. He sucked on his skin hard, Sam grunting and shuddering in disgust when Dean’s tongue teased his skin, and Sam made the horrible mistake of looking away, of leaning his head away. Unwillingly granting more access to his neck, Sam gasped when Dean licked up his neck, nibbling on his earlobe and licking along the outline, before placing a few kisses behind his ear, then down his neck and finally shoulder.

Pain, he would take. He could take the torture, even though it hurt like a motherfucker, even though it was his own brother inflicting unbelievable pain on him and seemingly enjoying every second of. He survived in the Cage, so he could survive some more torture, hours filled with non-stop suffering. But this? Dean licking and kissing at his skin in a way that didn’t hurt, this was a whole new level of torture, and as Sam remembered what Dean said, as those words finally, _finally_ sunk in and made sense, he suddenly felt so weak and frightened, so nauseous and appalled, that he felt like he was going to pass out.

His heart racing, he began sweating as panic finally took over and he didn’t care how much the ropes hurt his wrists as he struggled, didn’t even register the pain when Dean backhanded him, didn’t listen when he yelled at him to stop, to cut it the fuck out or else, because Sam snapped as dread coursed through his body. But then strong and unrelenting hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed until Sam stopped moving, his eyes wide and bulging as he looked up at Dean in shock and fear and he was sobbing, wanting this to stop but he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe.

His lungs were filled with much needed air when Dean let go, Sam’s nostrils flaring as he struggled to get some air, to finally breathe, and when his breathing returned to more or less normal, he blinked away tears and looked at his brother who was shaking his head. “Fighting it won’t help, you know? It won’t stop me, and at this point, nothing will. And you shouldn’t want to stop me, because this is our fate, Sammy.” Dean glared down at him, quickly casting his eyes over Sam’s broken body before looking him in the eyes, the older hunter’s filled with something dark and savage. “Your fate. All I’m doing is making you understand, baby, whenever you want it or not. And trust me, you’re gonna be wanting it good and hard.”

Sam whimpered. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the miserable sound from leaving him, because this couldn’t be happening. He hoped he heard it wrong, that he didn’t just hear his own brother threatening him with rape, but one look at the man looming over him told him that he was fucked, in every sense of the term.

And Dean laughed, a deep and wicked sound, as he heard Sam whimper, heard him fall apart so easily. He then removed his jacket and shirt, revealing a body that any woman would have felt attracted to, would have loved to caress and kiss, but Sam just felt a wave of horror as he realized how strong Dean was, stronger than ever, Purgatory training him and turning him into the perfect monster.

Then his brother moved his hands up and down his own body, slowly and seductively, all the while smirking at Sam, who watched the show in revulsion. He tried to get angry, but was too damn scared, cursing himself for not even finding the strength to hate Dean. And the most pathetic thing was how he blamed himself, was angry at _himself_ for not looking for his brother, felt guilt as he saw what the brother he loved and idolized has become. And it was his fault, all his fucking fault, so in a way, he deserved everything that was coming.

Still, that didn’t stop him from producing a muffled yell when Dean tore off his underwear, using both his hands and the knife to turn the piece of clothing into a tattered mess in no time.

Dean licked his lips hungrily as he gazed down at Sam’s flaccid cock, and the younger man felt himself shrinking from that look filled with so much burning desire that he wanted to hide, to merge with the bed and disappear. Because he knew that if Dean was going to lay a finger on him there, Sam was going to break for real.

He looked away for just a few moments, but when he glanced back, Dean was already in his underwear, his pants ceasing to exist, and he was moving back and positioning himself between Sam’s spread legs. And just when he thought that this was it, he was seriously going to get raped by _Dean_ , his own big brother, by family, Dean suddenly frowned and crawled off the bed.

Sam let out the breath he was holding in as he watched his brother, then wasn’t feeling that relieved anymore when Dean walked over to the table and pulled out a rubber ring and a small plastic bottle from the bag. He turned around a grinned, raising them for Sam to see, and when he recognized them both, he dug his nails into his skin to stop himself from whining.

And maybe he didn’t make a sound, but he must have looked just as scared as he felt, because Dean grinned at him. “Yep, it’s exactly what you think,” he said as he moved to the bed and went back to his previous position, between Sam’s legs. “I just know you’ll be a bad boy, so I’m gonna have to take some precautions. Can’t let you come too soon, after all. Not until I’m done making a point.”

He then grabbed Sam’s still limp cock and slid the cock ring around his shaft, stopping at the base. Sam growled, feeling so damn humiliated like this, but he was tied down and couldn’t move. He couldn’t have escaped even if he wanted to, and he wanted to run so much, just flee the room without his clothes in order to get as far away from his brother as possible. But of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

He swallowed nervously, watching as Dean leaned down before glancing up at him, and as the nastiest grin Sam has ever seen in his entire life crossed his brother’s face, he knew that the real torture was just starting.

 


	2. Why Can't I Hate You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up and Sam starts enjoying those cruel hands a bit too much.

 

“No need to look so scared, Sammy,” Dean whispered lowly, his voice raspy from lust, and bit into Sam’s inner thigh, making the man tense and turn into a living statue. “You’re gonna enjoy this, maybe even more than me. We both know that soon enough, you will be begging me to fuck you, to punish you for being such a naughty little brother. And of course, me being my awesome self, will do just that.”

Those were Dean’s last words before he began licking Sam, who felt like dying.

He was panting in overwhelming fear as he closed his eyes, this time not even caring if he was going to get mutilated for it. But closing his eyes did not mean he would stop feeling, so he couldn’t stop feeling Dean’s tongue on his dick either, as he lapped at his balls before taking them in his mouth and sucking on them, his tongue poking and prodding and licking until Sam found himself crying yet again.

He then switched his mouth to his hand, groping and massaging Sam’s wet balls with one hand while the other caressed his side, so gentle it made the younger hunter sick. Then that feeling of utter disgust only intensified when Dean decided to move his mouth over to his cock. He licked up from the base to the top, lapping at the head of his soft cock, then started kissing along the shaft, showering it with wet and lingering kisses, all the while licking. Then he was sucking at several parts of his skin on his cock, sometimes grazing the flesh with his teeth, then began nipping at it, and Sam hated himself so, so much, because blood was rushing to his dick and he was getting hard.

His own brother was teasing his cock with his lips and Sam was getting a fucking erection.

Dean chuckled against his cock, then Sam felt him grin as he gave his shaft a few more licks before taking the head in his mouth and sucking on it hard. Sam whined, couldn’t believe that he was slowly starting to enjoy it, to get off on this fucking horror show. But he was, and when Dean pressed the tip of his tongue down his slit, Sam threw his head back and moaned.

“Told you that you’re gonna love it,” Dean stated smugly when he took Sam’s now half-hard cock out of his mouth, then was back at it again, this time taking more of it in his mouth.

Dean groaned as he sucked Sam off, circling his tongue around the length that was rapidly reaching full hardness in the wet, hot cavern of Dean’s mouth. Sam bit down on the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood, because he was not going to give his brother the satisfaction of hearing him make any more sounds. But then Dean’s hold on his balls tightened, and he hollowed his cheeks as he began bobbing his head fast, sucking Sam off roughly, swallowing around his pulsing cock and not even giving a shit as he gagged when the tip bumped against the back of his throat as he deepthroated him, all the while groaning and moaning. Sam’s eyes flew open and even as his cheeks bled, even as he bit down hard enough to bite off a piece of his own flesh, he still screamed and moaned, waves of intense pleasure hitting him over and over again as Dean used every trick up his sleeve on his cock, his voice as it vibrated around Sam’s aching cock making him buck into his brother’s mouth and fuck, he let him. Dean let Sam fuck into his hot mouth, just taking in more and more while making some of the most obscene sucking sounds, and Sam was crying out and gasping, moaning like a slut as he thrust in and out of his own brother’s mouth, hating and loving it so much.

And he felt like he could come any second now, the overstimulation driving him crazy, but the cock ring forbid him from experiencing any sort of release, and Sam was whining and whimpering, fucking keening because he needed to come so much. He let out a wretched mix of a sob and a whimper when Dean pulled away with a wet sound, then Sam could feel him kissing his weeping slit before withdrawing both his hands and mouth. Sam was breathing heavily, his chest heaving fast and feeling dazed, then as he managed to open his eyes and look at his brother, he seriously wished he hadn’t.

Dean was stroking his own fucking rock-hard erection as he removed his underwear, throwing it as far away from the bed as possible. And holy fucking shit, his brother was big. He had one raging boner, a red-hot erection with veins bulging here and there and beads of pre-come already glistening at the tip. Noticing Sam’s wide eyes on him, Dean grinned, then smeared the fluid across the head of his dick with his thumb while groaning in delight. Sam’s whole body was trembling, because he knew what would happen now, he knew how sex worked, how rape worked, and he was sure that he was going to break. Dean had lube, but Sam was honestly doubting that some slick would help make this any less uncomfortable and painful.

And if he hated himself before, he despised himself with a passion now. Because he was hard, his erection standing proud between his legs, just aching to be touched. And he enjoyed it, remembered just how good fucking into Dean’s mouth felt, and even though he could have blamed it on his body, it didn’t work.

Because those high on sex and influenced by pleasure, their body reacting without the mind’s consent, wouldn’t wonder how a dick up their ass would feel like.

Sam inhaled sharply through his nose as Dean leaned closer, letting his throbbing dick rub against Sam’s, and they were both groaning. Then his brother flashed a victorious and just plain evil grin at him, before raising the blade that’s been laying patiently on the bed to Sam’s face and cut away the cloth which was holding the gag in place.

The hunter blinked and coughed when the gag was removed from his mouth, then didn’t even have time to take a deep breath, because Dean was grabbing his jaw and forcing his mouth open before quite literally shoving his tongue inside. Sam’s eyes widened so much that they hurt, and he yanked at the ropes, trying to bite Dean, but his brother was keeping his mouth open. His fingers dug into Sam’s jaw so hard that he made a small, pained whine, then when Dean caught his tongue between his teeth and tugged, he moaned.

Damn it, Sam was seriously fucked up, wasn’t he?

He made a chocked-off and obviously muffled sound as Dean deepened the kiss, and now he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t resist and as his brother began kissing him roughly, fucking violently with way too much tongue and teeth, Sam slowly returned the kiss.

And then he shattered.

Dean growled into his mouth, taking everything by force, and Sam didn’t mind. He was too far gone, the kiss making him light headed, and he was enjoying it, needed to let out a miserable laugh because he was freaking enjoying kissing and getting kissed by his brother.

The incredibly hot and fervent kiss lasted for minutes, before none of them could take it anymore and Dean pulled away, both panting and out of breath. His brother chuckled, this time the sound sending a pleasant shiver down his spine instead of a revolting one, and Sam did feel sick, but what made him want to empty his stomach was his own reaction. When did he stop fighting? Just when did he give up, give in? When the fuck did he stop loathing it all, stop caring that Dean Winchester was family, a man and his brother?

He guessed probably when he first felt Dean’s lips around his cock. Yep, that was probably it.

“There you go,” Dean said teasingly, quickly licking his bleeding lips as he gazed down at Sam. “I told you this would happen, told you so from the very start. And you refused to believe me, but here we are, and I bet I could make you beg for my cock. Right, Sammy?” He pressed down on Sam’s bottom lip with his thumb, the same thumb that was covered with his big brother’s pre-come not that long ago, and Sam’s breath hitched. “You know you’re mine. You know that now, don’t you, baby brother? Say it, tell me who you truly belong to.”

Sam hesitated, because Dean was lying. He wouldn’t beg, he wasn’t that delirious yet, and his brother had nothing over him. But then Dean growled ferociously and it made Sam let out such a weak little whimper that he had no choice but to accept the fact that Dean did have him exactly where he wanted him.

He tried speaking, but his throat was too hoarse, his voice failing him. So he cleared his throat and tried again. “Dean…” he breathed, his voice barely a whisper, so many emotions filling his head and making him go crazy. “I’m yours, Dean.”

“Damn right you are,” he said, then narrowed his eyes and moved his hand away from Sam’s lips to his neck, his throat, and pressed down on his windpipe with his thumb. “And now tell me who that chick was to you. What she really meant.”

Sam gasped when Dean squeezed his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. He knew what Dean wanted to hear, but…

“She…her name is Amelia,” Sam began, but when he saw Dean baring his teeth, snarling like an animal, he knew he needed to make this right quick, or else his brother might just choke him. “She was just a toy. Something that kept me company while you were gone. I belong to you, Dean, have always and will always be yours. Only yours.”

“She meant nothing to you,” Dean growled, all danger and unhealthy possessiveness. “Just a fuck toy, that’s right. You led her on, you don’t need her anymore.”

“I will break up with her, if that’s what you want,” Sam said, talking without fear and trying to have an actual conversation with his brother for the first time. “I will stay with you, I swear. I will break it off with her, just don’t hurt her.”

He knew he said something wrong when Dean’s grip tightened and he suddenly couldn’t breathe, his eyes widening as the wolf leaned into the hold on his neck, nearly crushing his windpipe for real.

“No! You don’t care if I hurt her, because she is nothing to you!” Dean roared, snarling like a frenzied animal. “She deserves everything, deserved it all,” he growled, and when his snarl turned into a grin, Sam felt his heart stop.

“Deserved…?” he whined, his voice coming out weak and broken.

Dean’s grin widened as he nodded, and Sam knew he wouldn’t like the next few words. “Yeah. Did you really think I would just take you from that place and leave her like that?” He laughed, shaking his head, then removed his hand from around Sam’s throat. “She woke up, you know? Saw me as I was dragging your body to the car. She panicked and tried to stop me; so I stabbed her a few times. Alright, maybe a lot of times.”

Sam was speechless, the look of horror on his face making his brother smile proudly. “She got what was coming to her. Touching you and kissing you, just looking at what belongs to me… That whore deserved to die a slow and painful death.”

He was too shocked to react for a long moment, then felt the tears leaving his eyes before he could have stopped them, and he should have really stopped them when he saw the look Dean was giving him. “Dean, wait—” He tried to somehow correct his mistake, but the damage has been done.

Dean punched him. It wasn’t a soft little tap either; he broke his nose as he kept on beating his face until he must have gotten bored, then picked up the blade and pressed it against Sam’s throat, the cold blade sinking into his skin and making him hiss. “Don’t you dare fucking cry over her! You hear me? You don’t cry over that woman!” he bellowed, however under all the anger in his voice, Sam could sense desperation as well, as if he wasn’t shouting at him but more like pleading.

And his face hurt a lot, probably bruised and bloody, but he managed to smile. That took Dean by surprise just as much as it did Sam, but his anger and sorrow were overpowered by the feelings he felt for his brother. He wasn’t sure what those feelings were, whether they were hatred or an odd sort of love, but they were there and making him smile reassuringly and somewhat bitterly.

“She was a person, so of course I’m crying over her. You stabbed her in cold blood, Dean,” he said, then sighed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m yours, okay? So would you stop beating me up each time I do something that doesn’t suit your fancy?”

He then braced himself for pain, was pretty sure that talking back like that to a Dean that has gone totally mental would result in some more pain, but when it never came, he slowly opened his eyes to look up at a confused man. Dean removed the blade from Sam’s throat and averted his gaze, then looked back and gently touched Sam’s nose. “I didn’t mean to beat you. That wasn’t really…part of the plan,” he admitted, and he sounded genuine enough. “I’m sorry.” He then leaned down and kissed Sam’s nose, before placing a soft kiss on ever bruise on his face, and even though Sam was feeling a bit surprised and rather tense, he could also feel his face heat up.

But then the moment was gone, and it was like Sam has been dragged back into a never-ending nightmare.

Dean bit down on a bruise on his cheek, making him groan in pain, then pulled back to glare at him. “Still, you deserved it just as much as that bitch deserved to die. Crying over her… Yeah, even if you tell me you understand, that you know where your place is, that does not mean that I won’t punish you for everything you did,” he growled lowly, then bared his teeth as he narrowed his eyes. “Especially for leaving me to die.”

Sam clenched his jaw even though that was causing him some pain now, and felt his heartbeat quicken when Dean moved back to his spread legs. Both their erections disappeared, and Sam cursed himself as it only took a few strokes of Dean’s rough hand to make him hard again, to have Sam moaning under his brother’s every touch.

Because he might have realized that he liked being touched by Dean, but that didn’t mean he would accept it or want more. He was in denial and, god damn it, he was not going to be the guy who enjoys getting fucked in the ass by his own big brother! Which was a task easier said than done, especially when aforementioned big brother was licking at his balls, then slid his tongue to his entrance before he began circling it.

“Oh god!” Sam cried out, confused as fear filled him once again, along with embarrassment.

“You don’t pray to God, Sammy,” Dean growled from between his legs. “You pray to me.”

And then Sam was breaking once again.

He moaned loudly as Dean’s tongue lapped at his quivering hole, as he spread his cheeks and poked the hole with the tip of his tongue teasingly, before pushing the wet softness inside and making Sam cry out in need.

Sam shouldn’t have loved this, and he had to realize that this couldn’t be called rape, not anymore. Not with him keening and writhing on the bed, trying so desperately to push back on Dean’s talented tongue as his brother licked and sucked, twisted and curled his tongue inside of him, and Sam felt like crying again, however not from pain or sadness, from anger or frustration, but from the sheer amount of pleasure this was bringing him.

Then Dean’s tongue was gone, and he couldn’t believe the sound he made at the loss, but then he found himself gasping as a cold and lubed finger circled his entrance, before entering him none-too-gentle.

He panted, gaping at Dean, who was grinning at him slyly. “What’s up, Sammy? Do you not want me to prepare you first? ‘Cause, you know, I really wouldn’t mind going at it raw. It would be so much better for me if you’re hurting,” he purred and licked his lips, and Sam believed him, believed that Dean could enjoy seeing him in pain and crying.

So he quickly shook his head and—trying not to blush or think about what he was doing—tried to spread his legs as much as he could with the ropes wrapped around his ankles and burning his skin. “Keep going, I’m fine…” he mumbled, then shivered when he heard Dean’s nasty chuckle.

“Alright then. I’ll finger your slutty little hole, baby brother, since you asked me so nicely,” he teased, then began moving the finger inside Sam, who wasn’t having half as much fun as before anymore. The finger felt uncomfortable and just weird, like it was not supposed to be there, and in those few moments of clarity, he had to wonder what the fuck he was doing.

He had to wonder why he wasn’t screaming at Dean to stop, why he wasn’t hating it as much as he was supposed to, why he felt so torn between wanting it to stop and needing it to never stop. But then all doubts about gay incest left him and flew right out the window, when he felt another lubed finger enter him and as those two digits brushed against what he was certain was his prostate, he let out a high pitched scream.

They both froze, Sam looking at Dean over the strands of hair that fell in front of his face, and Dean staring at his fingers before locking eyes with his brother and grinning.

“Hit something sweet, Sammy?” he asked with wink, and Sam wanted to say no, deny everything, but instead found himself nodding as he let his head fall back on the pillow.

“Do that again,” he mumbled, only realizing what he said after a moment, but before he could have hated himself just that bit more, Dean was moving his fingers again and Sam’s mind went blank.

“That’s right, you fucking love this, baby,” Dean purred, his voice taking on a deeper tone as he twisted his fingers inside his brother, scissoring his hole and stretching him open. He curled his fingers, rubbing them against his walls, then when he pressed down on his prostate, Sam arched his back and tried rocking back on Dean’s fingers like his life was depending on it.

He made soft whimpers, loud moans and groans as Dean added a finger, working him open good and hard, speeding up and fucking him with his fingers, and Sam was painfully hard again, bucking his hips as he tried humping the air or something, seeking friction that was being so cruelly denied of him.

Letting out a small sigh as the fingers suddenly disappeared from inside of him, Sam opened his eyes which he didn’t even remember closing, then looked at Dean as he poured a generous amount of lube in his palm, then gave a few long strokes to his huge cock, before scurrying closer to Sam’s spread legs.

And Sam shouldn’t have let out a needy little whine when his brother lined up his thick cock with his entrance, but he did, and Dean loved it.

He chuckled, a sound which Sam has come to love and enjoy, then caressed his thighs until the hunter relaxed. “Gonna take you hard now, baby. I won’t be gentle, so you better relax and take deep breaths, or I might just end up making you bleed some more.”

And in a seriously, majorly fucked up way, Sam was hoping that would happen.

But he nodded, beginning to take deep breaths as the head of Dean’s hot cock breached the tight ring of muscles. He made a defeated sound when his brother pushed in, slowly, way too fucking slowly, and Sam was actually considering shouting at him to fuck him already when Dean must have realized that he promised to be an animal, and did just that.

Sam felt something tear and he was pretty sure that, yep, his ass was bleeding.

He cried out louder than ever before as Dean simply shoved in his cock with one brutal thrust, then didn’t even wait a second before he was moving, his pace immediately turning from hard to goddamn merciless. “Fucking Hell, Sammy, shit you’re so tight,” Dean growled, his fingers digging into Sam’s hips and surely leaving some more bruises.

Sam wanted to say something, maybe scream at him to stop because this time it was seriously hurting. And he did scream, but no words came out, only pitiful sounds. His eyes widened, then squeezed shut, and then opened again as he threw his head back or from side to side, unable to take it. He was being filled so much, he felt like he was going to explode, to break and shatter. His ass already did and he could feel his warm blood as it trickled down his skin and between his legs, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He just kept on fucking Sam, slamming into his body with rough and violent thrusts of his hips, hard and fast and so damn deep Sam could have sworn he felt Dean in his fucking abdomen or something. And when he hit his prostate, Sam arched his back so far up he would have fallen off the bed if it wasn’t for the ropes keeping him in place, the sudden pleasure over the burning pain as he was stretched impossibly wide and fucked so savagely being so overwhelming that his vision blurred. He was moaning out loud, the only coherent word leaving his mouth being Dean’s name, because aside from that all he could do was make needy whimpers, pathetic little keens and lewd moans.

Dean seemed to be struggling with words as well, though. “Sammy, oh fuck—” He tried dirty talking but was cut off by his own groans, by his feral growls and the series of curses and possessive sounds that left his throat.

Then when the initial pain diminished and there was more pleasure than pain, as Dean managed to hit his prostate more times than not, Sam’s whimpers turned from needy to wanton, obscene and completely pathetic keens, to desperate little mewls. He couldn’t stop, not like he wanted to at this point, and even though his wrists and ankles were hurting like a son of a bitch, he still forced himself to meet each and every one of Dean’s thrusts, rocking his hips and squeezing around that amazing cock, milking him and simply fucking loving that huge dick as it slid in and out him, rammed his ass wildly.

They were both getting louder and faster—if that was even possible—by the end, Sam crying out and screaming his brother’s name, while Dean roared like a beast and cruelly fucked into Sam, but then somehow managed to find his voice and commanded Sam to beg like the little bitch he was.

And Sam didn’t even think and the words immediately came pouring out of his mouth because he seriously needed to come. “Please, please Dean! Love your cock, give me more, so much more, more! Wanna come, let me come, please brother!” he sobbed and wailed, needing it so damn much, and when Dean removed the ring from around his cock, he was coming untouched, screaming through his orgasm and clenching around Dean’s cock.

Dean’s thrusts became erratic as Sam’s hole fluttered around him, the younger hunter’s orgasm slamming through him hard and making him come all over his stomach. And Sam was completely spent and panting, not quite sure where or who he was right now, but then reality pulled him back as he felt Dean biting down on his shoulder as he leaned forward and came inside him with a loud growl, Sam feeling everything, as his brother filled him with his load that just kept coming with each slam until his come was leaking from Sam’s fucked-out hole.

Dean kept his teeth buried in his skin for a while as he lay on top of Sam, then let go and pulled out of the hole dripping with hot come, rolling next to his brother. When Sam finally managed to catch his breath, he wrinkled his nose when he realized that his come was covering his wounded body, but then felt Dean’s tongue on him. He watched in amazement and a bit of shock as his brother licked up every last bit of his come, cleaning his cock and stomach in the process, then flashed a dirty grin at Sam before straddling his hips and crushing their lips together.

Sam tried to move his head as he didn’t fancy tasting himself, but Dean would have none of it. He held Sam’s head in place as he kissed him fiercely, Sam sighing and returning the kiss, though pulling a face when he tasted his come on his brother’s tongue, and just how fucked up was that? But he still kissed him back, harshly and hotly, then was surprised when Dean suddenly turned the kiss from hard to soft, gently licking into his mouth and along his lips and successfully drawing a moan out from Sam.

When he pulled back, he licked his lips and placed one quick kiss on Sam’s chin. “How was that? Finally learned your lesson, baby?”

“Lesson?” Sam panted when he finally found his voice. “Was my lesson enjoying some bondage?”

“That, and the obvious fact that if you touch anyone else other than me, I’m gonna get angry. Really angry,” he said with a small snarl, then nuzzled Sam’s bruised cheek, which hurt but since Dean just fucking _nuzzled_ him, he couldn’t give a damn.

“You’re sick, you know that?” Sam laughed when his brother glared at him, then shook his head. “But I guess I am too. I thought you were going to rape me…but me ending up enjoying it was really something I did not expect.”

Dean chuckled. “Enjoying it? Please, you loved it more than anything in the world. Never in my entire life have I seen you like this, so needy and just bloody gorgeous. Literally bloody, but you can’t deny that you’ve got some pain kink hidden in there.”

Sam glared at his brother, wanting to protest, but then just rolled his eyes. “Only if you’re not bashing my head in. Because I hope you know most of the shit you did to me hurt like Hell, and not in a good way.”

“I know,” Dean stated, though didn’t seem too sorry about it. “But as I said before, you deserved it. Though…I guess from now on I won’t have to be so harsh on you, since I’m pretty sure you’ve learned to be obedient.”

“From now on…?” Sam raised an eyebrow, then swallowed nervously when Dean glared at him.

“Yeah, from now on. Did you expect that I’d just fuck you and then leave you hangin’?” Dean growled. “I don’t do that. I don’t go this far just for a fuck, Sam. I thought you got that through that thick skull of yours by now, realized just why exactly I did all of this.”

“Well, I supposed it was all thanks to Purgatory. I thought it drove you insane, made you snap, until…”

“Until what? Until I’d fuck my own brother?” Dean said incredulously, then let out a humorless laugh. “I admit, Purgatory did change me, a lot. But if that would have been it, you would have stopped breathing like weeks ago. No, I did this because I love you.”

Sam blinked, then blinked again, and then frowned. “You love me? Like head over heels love?”

Dean sighed in frustration and nodded. “Yeah Sam, like head fucking over heels love. Been loving you for a while now, I guess. I don’t know because I never once thought of you that way, but I really doubt that I would have thought of fucking you like this if there wasn’t something already there, buried deep,” he said and leaned closer, a genuine smile instead of a grin crossing his face. “And judging from your final reaction, I’d say you had some feelings of your own buried.”

Sam blushed. He felt his face flush and he averted his eyes, because he knew that Dean was right. He thought of all of this as disgusting and wrong, as horrifying. At first, that is. He was scared as Hell, so that might have made things even worse, made realization sink in that much slower, but it did, eventually. He wouldn’t have loved the sex as much as he did if he didn’t have any feelings for his brother, after all.

So after a long moment, he sighed in defeat and looked at Dean. “I guess…”

“You don’t guess, you know, Sammy,” Dean purred, then used the blade to free Sam from the stubborn ropes. He tried to sit up, but when a burning pain shot up from his ass, Sam decided that he would lie in the bed for a bit longer instead. He rubbed his bruised wrists, hissing when he noticed it hurt more than he anticipated, then felt strong hands around him.

He got pulled into Dean’s arms, facing his brother as Dean lay on his back and trying to crush them together or something, he was holding Sam so tightly. And when he looked up to glare at his brother, he saw for the first time the look of so pure, undying love in Dean’s eyes that whatever he was about to say got lost in his head.

“Sammy,” Dean whispered, and Sam leaned into the touch when his brother ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry about the face. I know I’m an ass, coz I’m not sorry about anything else. But I really did not mean to beat you up, to lose my cool like that. So you can do whatever you want, now. You can’t run away and leave me, of course—I would just hunt you down and fuck you where I’d find you if you did, hurt you even more. But aside from that…” he said, shrugging and smirking when he saw the look on Sam’s face.

“Wow, I’ve gotta say, I’m shocked by your level of… I don’t even know how to call it.” Sam shook his head, then sighed and cursed himself as he buried his face in the crook of Dean’s neck in a way that didn’t hurt. “If I can ask anything, then I want us to cuddle each time we have sex. Because I think I know it now, know this you, and am aware of the fact that no matter how gentle you’re going to try and be, it will most likely end bloody. Am I right?”

He glanced up at Dean and, sure enough, his brother was frowning but grinning. “I guess you’re right. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

Sam shook his head. “No, Dean. You’re just a brute, that’s all. Purgatory changed you way too much.”

“Hey.” Dean fisted a hand in Sam’s hair and pulled his head, though he did so gently. “I won’t deny it, because I did change. But don’t you dare tell me that I’m not the same. I’m still the same Dean, just way more in touch with my primal self. And anyway, I’m only like this in the bedroom,” he purred with a wink, before leaning in and kissing Sam.

He had his doubts about that. He couldn’t be sure how this Dean would react when they would hunt and drink in bars, couldn’t be sure that his brother wouldn’t go on a murderous rampage every time someone would look at Sam. But he could also see the old Dean in those eyes, so he was right, he might not have changed too much. And, well…having a possessive Dean who was, by the way, a fucking sex god as his lover?

Sam might be okay with this new and improved version of his brother after all.

He smiled, placing a small kiss on Dean’s cheek, his smile widening at the look of complete and utter adoration his brother gave him. “I love you, you jerk.”

And Dean laughed, before returning the kiss and mumbling the sweetest and most loving words against Sam’s forehead.

 


End file.
